Room
by rosabelle317
Summary: Rusty finally makes some changes to his room.


**Notes: **And the answer to "what story will I write next?" is "the one where Sharon buys Rusty a blanket." Ahahaha. The good news is I've started at least a dozen new stories, most of which are not even terribly depressing. The bad news is that I haven't manged to finish any of them, which is why I've been MIA for the last few weeks. Sorry! :( This one (and probably everything else I'll write) is set in a slight AU where Stroh signed the damned deal and went to prison, because I like to just ignore the parts of canon I don't like.

**Room**

"Where's that thing gonna go, anyway?"

_That thing_ was a slender lamp small enough to fit in the corner of her desk without crowding her. Sharon glanced away from it to her youngest son, who was hovering behind her with the shopping basket and making a reasonable attempt at pretending he wasn't bored. "My desk in the living room," she told him, turning back to the lamp in contemplation. "Maybe my bedroom. I'll switch things around and see where they look best."

It wasn't a match for the desk lamp she had now, but the shade was the same sort of linen and chrome. She could live with them together. Or she would put it on her dresser and move the standing lamp into the living room behind her desk.

"What are you going to do with the old lamps?"

"Keep them," she said. "What I want is a little more light in the living room."

Preferably light that didn't come from the television, but Rusty had finished his first semester at Santa Monica with a 4.0 GPA and the homework assignments he left scattered on the coffee table led her to believe his summer classes were going equally as well, so Sharon was making no comment about his preferred method of studying involving writing his papers on the couch while _Badge of Justice_ played in the background except to request he lower the volume when she was working.

She hadn't intended to buy a lamp today. She hadn't intended to make a Target trip at all, but her electric kettle had abruptly died halfway through heating her tea water that morning. She'd resigned herself to drinking coffee and then dressed to leave the house. She'd only spotted the lamps halfway to the cash registers.

Behind her, she heard the cart roll around as Rusty fiddled with it. She'd taken him to enough stores to know he was amusing himself by pushing it forward as far as he could and then pulling it back into his chest. Luckily, there was no one else in the aisle. "Hey, Sharon?"

"Hm?"

"Is it all right if I go check out the shoes?"

They both knew he'd only tagged along because he knew she'd probably buy him lunch afterwards. "That's fine," she said. "I'll come find you when I'm done."

He took the cart with him, but she knew to expect that.

In the beginning, he'd been so anxious that she would forget him somewhere that he would try to insist on waiting in the car even on the hottest days. Eventually, they'd struck a silent compromise where he wouldn't balk at going into the store with her if she would let him hold onto the basket and rest her purse on the seat, because she wouldn't leave without what she'd come for and she couldn't drive home without her purse.

She still let him take the cart whenever he grabbed for it, but she could hold onto her purse now and he thought nothing of wandering away from _her_. That was something.

Luckily, the lamp was light. Sharon cradled it sideways in her arms and went in search of her son.

He wasn't in the shoe section. Figuring he'd be around the corner, she checked socks and underwear next, then wandered through pajamas and menswear. When she didn't find him there, either, she shifted her grip on the lamp and headed towards electronics. He never could resist taking a look around there.

Two aisles later she found him, almost by accident. A child screeched something and ran past, a Disney Princess nightgown trailing on the floor behind her as she hurried after a man who could've been her father. Sharon's attention lingered on the two of them as the man considered the girl and the nightgown, then scooped up both and deposited them in the back of the cart.

Definitely her father, then.

As the man and the little girl moved away, Sharon spotted Rusty out of the corner of her eye, just ahead of where they had been standing. She would've missed him if he hadn't been near the edge of the aisle, because the bedding section was one of the last places she would've looked for him.

"There you are." Looking at comforter sets.

"Oh, hey." When he turned towards her, she could see there was a blanket hugged against his chest too. It was one of the thick, extra plush ones in a dark green, and Rusty held it up so that his chin was half-buried into it. "I was going to come find you. Were you looking for me?"

"What happened to shoes?"

"Oh, I got those already. And some other stuff."

"I can see that." Thrown in around her new kettle were one pair of sneakers, two pairs of jeans, a pack of undershirts, a pajama set with blue plaid pants and a white t-shirt, three solid-colored t-shirts (red, blue, and green), a stick of thankfully unscented deodorant, and a pack of razors. A suspicious number of items for him to have acquired in ten minutes. Sharon raised an eyebrow. "Did you try any of these on?"

"They fit."

Which wasn't the same as a yes, but as long as he was paying for his own clothes, he could do as he wanted. Sharon said nothing else, and Rusty shifted his things around in the cart to make room for the lamp. He set the blanket down on top.

Sharon gestured at the comforters. "Which one are you looking at?"

She smiled when she saw the one he was pointing at. Navy and green plaid, striped with white.

"That'll look nice with the blanket."

"I'm not sure I'll get it, though."

"You should," Sharon said. "I know you like it."

He hesitated, lowering his eyes to stare at his shoes. "I already have one."

Oh. This again.

At least she knew what to say.

"I'm happy to let you keep the one you've got," she said, lowering her voice as someone rolled a cart past them. "But it's perfectly all right if you'd prefer something a little more to your own taste."

For the longest time, she'd wondered if he actually liked plaid or if it was just what was in style and Rusty wanted to grab the first shirt he saw and leave the store. She'd concluded that he did once it had become practically the only style in his wardrobe. In fact, she thought he had a shirt with the same colors as the comforter he was looking at now.

He definitely didn't gravitate towards the sort of floral patterns that were on his bed at the moment.

She'd asked him a few times if he would like to redecorate the room to make it feel more like his bedroom and less like her guest room. He'd always said no. No, she didn't need to move her art. No, the blue chair was fine in the corner. No, it was fine, she didn't need to move Jack's things out of the closet.

Jack's clothing was no longer in his closet, at least, and Rusty had hung up a poster or two. He'd made no more changes and it seemed to agitate him whenever she offered, so she'd stopped asking. If change made him anxious, there was no real reason to redecorate if he didn't want to.

But there was no reason to not redecorate, if he did want to.

"So?" she prodded "What do you think?"

"It's expensive," he said. "Like... sixty dollars just for the comforter thing. That's not even with the blanket."

"Don't worry about that."

He finally looked up, if only to frown at her. "I wasn't asking you to buy it for me."

"But I will, if you'll let me. Besides," she added, giving his arm a teasing nudge with her elbow, "I'd rather buy you a nice blanket than that awful pizza in the cafe."

"You don't_ know_ I was going to ask for pizza." But she was sure that was a smile he was trying to hide.

"Call it mother's intuition." More seriously, she told him, "I'd have gotten you new bedding ages ago if I'd known you wanted some."

"I know," he said. "I just didn't think it mattered."

"Why not?"

"Because I wasn't staying," he answered. He always said these things matter-of-factly, and it made her throat ache every time. "Then after that, it was just nice to have a real bed again. And then after _that_, I thought I'd have to leave as soon as I turned eighteen and I—I, um... I just thought it'd be easier that way."

That wasn't helping the pressure expanding in her throat like a balloon, choking her when she tried to speak. Sharon swallowed. "And now?"

He shrugged. "Now's different."

"Very different," she agreed, but she couldn't tell him to get it.

He stared at the price tag for a long time. Sharon said nothing while she watched him, waiting silently until finally, he reached out and grabbed the bag. He turned and dropped it in the cart, then grabbed the handle and began pushing it quickly away like he wanted to leave before he could change his mind.

Sharon caught his elbow before he could get too far.

"You know," she said, when he stopped to look at her. "I think we can find some sheets to match this, around the corner."

* * *

When she stopped by Rusty's room to wish him goodnight, the new sheets were on the bed. Navy, to match the comforter. The green blanket was spread out across the foot of the bed.

Rusty lay curled up on top of the covers, his laptop open in front of him, wrapped in the black and white blanket he'd slept with since he'd come to live with her. Where his bare feet poked out, she could see the edge of his new pajamas, and the vividly clashing plaids mixed with the geometric patterned blanket suddenly reminded her of the shirt and tie he'd worn to that first dinner with Daniel.

It was hard to believe that night hadn't even been three years ago. And somehow, she almost could, because there were moments now when she forgot she hadn't always had three children.

"Sharon?"

"I'm all right," she said quietly, and smiled at him. "I was just coming to say goodnight. You look comfortable."

"Yeah." He shut his laptop and tucked it beneath his pillow before he sat up, settling himself cross-legged on the bed facing her. "Thanks. Again."

"You're welcome. Can I come in for a minute?"

When he nodded, she went to sit beside him.

"I've been thinking," she said. "There are other changes we could make to this room."

"Changes?"

"If you'd like." She touched his shoulder. Gently at first, to gauge his reaction. When he didn't tense, she slid her arm all the way around him, settling her other hand on the arm nearest her. "We could paint."

"No," he said.

"You sure?"

"I kinda like the green," he said. "Or... whatever color this is."

"Vegetable medley, I think."

He gave her a blank look.

"That's the name of the paint color."

"Seriously?"

She laughed. "I'm afraid so."

He wrinkled his nose. "I'm used to it, anyway."

"I wouldn't mind putting the art in storage, either."

Rusty hesitated.

"What?" She rubbed his shoulder with her thumb.

"It's just... what if I don't live here anymore?"

"I'd bring it back."

"No," he said. "I—I mean... like, I could transfer next year. That's soon."

It suddenly felt it. Sharon forced her fingers to relax. They'd talked a little about where he might want to transfer to. If he left LA, he would be close enough for visiting. "And?"

"And... I dunno." He shrugged. "It seems like it'd be a lot of work, moving everything around if I'm just going to leave."

"It's not _so_ much work." She squeezed his shoulder. "I'll make you the same deal I made Ricky and Emily. You do what you want, and if I absolutely hate it then you put it back the way it was when you move out. How's that sound? Look," she added, when she felt him shrug, "I'm just reminding you of your options. It's up to you."

"I don't want to be more trouble."

"You wouldn't be."

She felt him tense then, his muscles all tightening up beneath her hands but before she could let go, he leaned _towards_ her, stopping when his shoulder just barely touched hers. God. There were moments when she wanted to just _throttle_ Sharon Beck.

Sharon tried not to sigh. Rusty's other mother was rapidly approaching her release from county jail, and Sharon would be civil to her when they were required to breathe the same air. For Rusty's sake. There was no use in saying everything she would like to, even if she could. She doubted the woman would understand half of it.

"Maybe the chair."

Sharon nodded, releasing a deep breath in an attempt to soothe away that sudden flare of anger as she twisted around to look at the chair. It would probably be happier not being used as a dumping grounds for dirty socks. "I'll move it to my room. Anything else?"

"Where would you put the art, though?"

"Storage, probably. Don't worry about that."

"Wasn't all this stuff expensive?"

"Don't worry about that, either."

"Can I keep the blanket?"

The sudden change of topic made her blink. "It's yours."

"Not the new one. This one." Tugging it out from beneath his knees, Rusty held up the edge of the black and white blanket. "If—if that's okay?"

"More than okay."

"Really?" Even looking at him sideways, she could see the way his eyes widened slightly in surprise.

"Really." She reached down, taking the blanket in both hands and raising it up around his shoulders. She settled it there, and pressed her lips together to hide a smile when he looked down, clearly pleased, at the excess blanket spread out around him.

"Thanks, Sharon."

"I'll move the chair out in the morning," she told him. "I just need to clear some space for it in my room."

"And it's okay? You're sure?"

"It might look nice with my new lamp." She'd sit in it and drink tea made with her new kettle. Sharon tugged gently at the edge of the blanket until it hung straight from Rusty's shoulders. "Don't stay up too late, all right?"

"Yes, Mom."

Sharon blinked, pausing with her fingers still curled around the hem of the blanket. He said it teasingly. He always did. She didn't think he could bring himself to say it otherwise. This time it was complete with an eyeroll, but the affection was genuine. It always was, and when she smiled at him, as much as she wanted to, he smiled back.

"Okay." Sharon stopped fussing with the blanket because she knew he'd only lie down again as soon as she got up, and contained everything else that wanted to bubble out of her because he hardly ever said it and if she made him uncomfortable he would stop. "I'll let you get some sleep. If I'm gone when you wake up in the morning, I'll be back after church."

"'kay," he said, reaching beneath his pillows to retrieve his laptop.

"Good night." Sharon squeezed his shoulder one more time before she stood. "Sleep well."

"Night, Sharon." Sure enough, he lay down the moment she was up, kicking his legs to settle the blanket just as he wanted and burrowing into his pillows, now blue and green instead of warm shades of brown. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Sharon waited until he was still, then, when he'd flipped his computer back open, she turned off the light and left his room, pulling the door shut behind her.


End file.
